Repercussions
by Equipoise
Summary: Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. AU since book 7. Please note: this is a character driven story. Reviews welcome!
1. Chapter 1

"So, you know what the last Horcrux is?" Harry stopped in his tracks.

"Not exactly. But I know someone who does." Hermione turned her wand nervously over in her hands.

"Well?" He began pacing again.

"Harry, I need you to be calm about this. And I need you to trust me. There's a lot more going on than you think."

"Hermione, I don't need this right now. Stop coddling me and just tell me."

She hesitated only a second more before reaching slowly for Harry's wand "I'm going to hold this for a minute."

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why?"

"So you don't do something characteristically rash, I imagine." An all too familiar sneer emanated from the shadows.

"Where is he?" Blazing with fury, Harry lunged in the direction of the voice of his former professor.

"Like that." Severus Snape sounded almost bored as he dodged the wandless teenager.

Hermione cast a quick body bind on Harry, all the while scowling deeply at Snape. "You aren't helping yourself."

In a mockery of innocence, Snape spread his hands. "He attacked me. Miss Granger. Be glad I agreed to let you hold my wand." Hermione scoffed lightly and pulled the rest of Harry's cape off of Snape. "Listen, Sir," the title was not meant as a sign of respect and Snape stiffened just a little at the poison in her voice, "I know the truth and I will do anything I can to help our cause. That doesn't mean I have to like  
it or you."

Hermione moved purposely just inside his personal space, her pitch dropping to a dark whisper. "Do not forget that I am doing you a favor- possibly the last you will ever get. There are other ways of obtaining information, as I'm sure you well know." Snape flinched briefly but did not look away. "Try and act like a decent human being for once." She stepped back and they regarded one another for several long, icy moments. Then, with something less than contrition, Snape conceded and Hermione, temporarily satisfied, released Harry.

Amazingly, Harry maintained his composure as he glared at the man who killed his mentor. "He's a bloody traitor, Hermione."

"There was blood on my hands before you were born, boy. Your anger will never change that. I'm here to put an end to all this. You need my help. You would do well to respect that." Snape drew himself to his full height, wincing a little and hiding it badly. Hermione glanced at him, a warning in her eyes.

A bitter laugh escaped Harry's lips. "And still so goddamned superior. I suppose you think you'll get a medal for this when it's all over."

"I don't expect to have to much use for medals if…" he paused "when this ends."

Noting the change in Snape's demeanor, Hermione reentered the conversation. "We need to listen to him, Harry. We don't have all the clues we need. He won't tell me everything until the Order has granted him clemency."

"He killed Dumbledore."

As though the stopper had been pulled from a vial, all of Hermione's words came spilling out over one another. "Dumbledore was already dying. The potion he drank in the cave, it had no antidote. He knew, Harry. Professor Snape knew too. He was bound to finish what Malfoy started and Dumbledore knew the risks. McGonagall found a hidden pensieve. He made it before… that night. It absolves Snape. McGonagall has taken it to the rest of the Order. She asked me to talk to you."

"Why is he here?" Harry sounded skeptical.

"Because you two would have to confront one another eventually. The Order won't act until you are convinced. We wanted to get this out of the way as quickly as possible." Hermione bit her lip before continuing and a hint of apology crept into her voice." McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley thought it was best."

Harry inhaled slowly. "He's still a murderer and a Death Eater." He turned from Hermione to meet Snape's eyes unwaveringly. "I should execute you on the spot."

"Perhaps." The air nearly crackled between them, until, to the surprise of both Harry and Hermione, Snape looked down. "And perhaps you will have the chance soon enough, though I am loathe to give you that pleasure. I will face the Wizengamot for my crimes, no doubt. It is not for you to be judge, jury, and executioner."

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. "I will listen to what you have to say." He motioned for Snape to sit.

If she didn't know better, Hermione would have claimed she saw a flicker of respect pass over Snape's countenance, as he nodded and took the proffered seat. "You are not your father." It was grudging and left-handed, but a compliment nonetheless.

Harry merely sat opposite Snape, watching him expectantly.

Hermione bit back a sigh of relief and took her place next to Harry.

A/N

No, I am not a Harry/Hermione shipper, I just thought the last line was  
fitting.

The second chapter is longer and takes place in a possible future.


	2. Chapter 2

Severus Snape was not in the mood for this. He was already half in the bag as this doe-eyed young woman stood before him doddering on, shaking his hand with a distant kind of grace. Several fresh faces surrounded her, all sweetness and sympathetic glances. He supposed he should be grateful he was not dead or otherwise incapacitated, but all he could think of was the bottle of Firewhiskey he had left open in his temporary quarters. The drinks here were too weak to maintain the comfortable level of inebriation necessary to dealing with these people.

"I just wanted to say thank you. For everything you've done. We doubted you and that was wrong." The girl simpered.

"So wrong." Her companions echoed softly.

"We hope you understand. We are so grateful to you now."

What did they want him to say? If it were not for the occasional sharp glance from Minerva, he would have been gone long ago. She had wheedled a promise to 'be nice' to everyone. He had scoffed at first, but with half the wizarding world still baying for his blood, it occurred to him that it may be a good tactic not to completely isolate those who may choose to believe in his innocence. Social interaction was far from his forte and thus he turned to the best known social lubricant to ease his path. Sadly, this only took a small edge off of his intense dislike of this entire situation, not to mention gibbering idiots like the one that now clung foolishly to his hand.

He mumbled something that, hopefully, sounded humble and vaguely worthy of a double-agent-cum-war-hero before striding away with an air of importance. If anyone had been looking, they would have recognized his renewed attempt at a hasty retreat, but luckily, Minerva was otherwise occupied.

Unfortunately, Severus' escape plan was fouled as he found himself nearly blindsided by a fellow war hero.

"Prof- erm... Good evening, Sir."

Part of him was almost mollified that at least one person in attendance at this dreaded Ministry affair remembered that he had once had a title of respect. For all their fawning, not one of them had addressed him with deference to his former position, or even his current one as an unemployed Potions Master. This wave of mild appreciation passed as quickly as it had come when he recognized the former student in question.

War had been nearly as unkind to her as it had been to him.

"Miss Granger."

The curly haired friend of the Brat-Who-Lived inclined her head by way of greeting. "You are looking well, Sir." Her voice was curt and polite.

Severus suppressed a snort of amusement at the obviously false formality. "No need for flattery, Miss Granger. My dance card is already quite full." He sneered merely out of habit.

The slight flush that flitted over her face was a stark contrast to the chilliness of her gaze. "I should not keep you then, Sir." She did not wait for a response, heading quickly toward her table.

As she brushed past him, it occurred to Severus that Miss Granger had not spoken to him since the night Minerva had contrived for him to make his case to the Potter boy. Of course, he had had little occasion to speak with any other members of the Order after Potter had warily agreed to trust in his advice. He had developed a grudging respect for the boy, despite years of fine tuned hatred. Potter had even been kind enough to testify that it was, indeed, evidence from Severus that allowed him to locate and destroy the final Horcrux. However, it seemed Minerva's wishful assurances that Severus had turned over a new leaf were all for naught, as Potter and his nearest and dearest had been pointedly ignoring him since the end of his trial. That suited their former Professor perfectly. There was a tacit truce, padded on both sides by deep-rooted dislike. He saw no need to change that. Miss Granger's behavior to him was almost reassuring, it signaled a kind of social stagnation to which he hoped to become accustomed.

_Let them despise, so long as they leave me alone._

There had been a few idle death threats and many muggleborns remained convinced of his guilt. Severus could not think to blame them. A murderer is still a murderer, no matter what the motivation.

He could remember thinking that quite clearly as he sat frozen while the Wizengamot deliberated. If he was honest with himself, Severus would have admitted that he did not expect to survive the war. Once the Dark- Voldemort- was vanquished, a small hope had worked its way into the back of his mind. He had ignored it, then, focusing all of his energy on ridding the world of his fellow Death Eaters. Trial after trial passed by, he gave testimony after testimony, stoically relating horrors that somehow seemed so commonplace, most ordinary, really, when sitting in a crowded courtroom.

Finally, he sat at his own trial. Minerva was most adamant in presenting the pensieve left to her by Dumbledore. The memories compiled therein provided sufficient evidence of Severus' role as a double-agent and cleared him of any malevolent complicity in Dumbledore's death. He stayed silent, refusing to speak in his own defense. No decision of the Wizengamot would ever truly clear his name. Minerva's concern for the small, lost boy she had once known would not bring him back, nor change the decisions he had made.

The charges were dropped completely. Potter's testimony clinched the deal. It was perhaps the first time in his life, Severus had been rendered speechless. Minerva had guided him gently from the courtroom and set him up in a hotel in London. There, he had quietly crawled into a bottle, relishing the chance to relax his guard. Intoxication was a welcome relief after years of constant vigilance.

That brought him here, staring indolently at Miss Granger's receding back as she crossed the large hall that held yet another Ministry-run press banquet. Having received the Order of Merlin for his aid to the Order had appealed to his sense of irony at the time, but now he was quite ready to be done with all of this synthetic adulation and go back to bed.


	3. Chapter 3

Minerva had given her a curious look when she asked for the address. Severus Snape was hidden in London, only Minerva knew how to locate him. Hermione Granger knew this. As much as she loathed admitting to anyone whom she was seeking out, it was a necessary evil to get her what she wanted.

Once she had memorized the room number, Hermione made her way to London and climbed the stairs of the dirty hotel with a stolid determination. She supposed numbness was a better response to her mission than abject terror.

A few knocks on the door produced a rather haggard Snape, dressed sloppily in Muggle clothing that did not quite fit his lithe form. He looked neither surprised nor pleased to see her, but he did not ask her to leave. They regarded one another in silence. Hermione felt her hands begin to shake a little and she marveled at the effect this shell of a man could still have on her after all this time. Taking a breath, she broke the stillness.

"I asked Minerva for your address. I wanted to… ask you something." She paused for a response.

He tilted his head to the left, looking vaguely bored. "Well?"

"You've lived through two wars now. You've seen more than any of us can imagine. You're committed unknown atrocities and lived to tell the tale. You have memories of actual events that would overshadow any nightmare…" She had gotten carried away and she knew it, but it was so hard to stop, once she sent herself on this track.

Snape said nothing for a moment, but his breathing seemed to have accelerated just a bit. "Well, if I am in need of a resume, I will be sure to let you know." He motioned as though to close the door, but she held her hand out to stop him. Some other part of her brain noted that he was thinner than ever.

"I need to know, Sir. Please."

He stared at her hand, splayed firmly against his breastbone. She removed it quickly as though he had burned her.

"How do you deal with the memories? How do you live with…everything?"

There was another long silence. He would not look at her and she began to think he would not answer her at all. When he did speak, his voice sounded rusty, as though from disuse. "There are potions for the nightmares. The rest… perhaps in time…"

"I have given it time. I shouldn't feel this way, not anymore. The war is over. We won." Her voice sounded more confident than she felt.

He shook his head slightly.

"We won." She repeated flatly.

"Still focusing on the bigger picture, eh, Miss Granger?" His eyes flashed as they finally met her own. She was taken aback, but said nothing. After taking a minute to scowl dispassionately at the ground, he continued. "When I was the Head of Slytherin House, I gave a speech every year to the first years. I made it very clear to them that I would never coddle them. I was not there to replace their mums. I would do my best to see them through the year alive and well. All problems of a personal nature were none of my concern. They were to deal with these things on their own."

"A simple dismissal would have done the trick, Sir." Hermione turned, a little huffily, on her heel to leave when a hand alighted on her shoulder.

"If I had spelled out every little upset and dressed every small wound, they would never have survived this far. Cosseting them and treating them like children-"

"They were children."

"Treating them as such would not prepare them for the real world, where no one else can ever truly solve your problems for you." He snorted elegantly, "Besides, I could hardly be concerned with the minutiae of their pathetic little lives."

Hermione glanced down at the long fingers still curled lightly over her shoulder. "I know I should never have come to you. I don't have the faintest idea why I did. I just thought that… someone who has pulled himself out of so much darkness must have some kind of insight."

"It is all the luck of the draw, Miss Granger. For better or worse, I survived. Many others did not. There is no logic or reason in it, which is why you cannot seem to comprehend." The words were meant to be cruel, but the tone was surprisingly gentle. He released her shoulder and stepped back into the doorway. "I wonder that Minerva prized you so highly when you obviously understand so little about life. But I suppose it was certain connections that made you-"

"Don't you dare." She whirled to face him, burning with righteous indignation.

"Good. Anger is said to be a step in the right direction. Go work on the others somewhere that is not in my immediate presence."

"Provoking me will not-" She choked on the words that wanted to leap out of her throat and slap the smugness off of his face. "It won't assuage your guilt."

Snape suddenly looked very tired. "Go back to your friends, Miss Granger. The war is over. The side you picked won. Go. Celebrate. What else is there left to do, after all?"

There was an unceremonious slam and Hermione found herself staring blearily at a blank wall as the tears that had fought so long to fall spent themselves in abundance.


	4. Chapter 4

She had wanted to ask him about his part in their victory for a very long time.

Why had he chosen the side of Light? Harry and Voldemort were equally matched then. It could have gone either way. In fact, without his help, Harry might have run out of time before he found the final Horcrux.

She was waiting for a day when he was in a good humor. The wait was proving too long.

At last, she found herself asking, with no real plan of action, "Why did you do it? Help us, I mean. Help... Harry."

He laughed bitterly- a sound that wasn't really a laugh at all. "Because it had to end somehow."

"And you decided to do the right thing, finally?" She winced at her own triteness, as soon as the words left her mouth. "I mean, to save your own life and everyone else's."

"Lives were lost on both sides. Death-eaters could be cruel and violent. They were rapists. Murderers. A moral void." He paused to sip his tea. "But they still had friends. Lovers. Spouses. Family. There is no absolute evil, Miss Granger, no matter how hard you look for it."

She began to mention names, off-handedly, recalling those who had surprised everyone when their true allegiances were revealed. He stopped her with a wave of his hand.

"I know you know the facts and figures." This time, he looked at her. Really looked. She felt a warm blush creeping over every inch of her exposed skin. It was uncomfortable and troubling and she could not bring herself to look away. He narrowed his eyes as if reading very small scrawl on a parchment, then shook his head. "You are not the woman I met during the war. Nor the one I have met since then. You have retreated to the know-it-all of the classroom, today, and I am not interested in carrying on any conversation with a textbook."

"Then, perhaps you should stop treating me like the know-it-all of the classroom!"

In a lazy tone that made Hermione want to wring his neck, Snape murmured, "Earn it."

The blush had reached her cheeks and burned there as she searched for something hurtful to say. His disinterested expression left her nothing and slowly the anger dissipated. Dully disappointedwith herself for allowing him to goad her, she broke away from his gaze, trying to look anywhere but at him. With an exasperated sigh, she settled for an earnest study of the doorjamb. "I can't win with you."

"Perhaps I've taught you something after all." He rose, reading her attempt at recovery, incorrectly, as a desire to leave. When he made to show her out, she laid a hand on his arm. They froze in an awkward tableau.

It was the only time they had made any physical contact since that day she first appeared at his door- the day that had begun this strange association.

Despite his admonishments and her pride, she had returned. He never seemed to care much for her company, but he never turned her away. She swore each time that she would forget this hateful man completely and go back to her life as it was. Yet, every few weeks found her trudging back up those narrow stairs, looking for comfort in the one person who was less adjusted to life after the war than she was. Some days, they exchanged only a few terse words and she left, grateful for the release her fury provided.

It was so easy to be angry at just one person.

On the fourth visit, he had grudgingly invited her in.

She didn't cry after every encounter. Only when he told the truth.

By the sixth visit, tea was offered.

She had lost count by now. The bare walls of his dingy room were beginning to feel just a little too much like home.

As she touched him, she could feel every sinew and ropy muscle in his forearm as it tightened in response to the light pressure of her hand. Something felt off-kilter here. The formality of it all was so... uncalled for. They were, for lack of a better term, friends.

Hermione Granger was friends with one of Hogwarts' most hated former professors, hero/traitor Severus Snape.

A laughed escaped her then. Snape quirked an eyebrow, perhaps amused, despite himself, by her apparent break from sanity. His arm relaxed, as did the set of his shoulders. He looked almost human. He was almost human, she realized with a jolt.

And then Hermione did something she would later think on as the second most impulsive act of her post-war life.

She hugged him.


	5. Chapter 5

One might say that Severus Snape had an overdeveloped sense of 'fight or flight'. One might also say that he was not particularly accustomed to touch as a sign of affection. These factors, along with some others, that even Severus did not wish to explore, could very well explain the strange action he took when Miss Granger's body made contact with his. Severus's sympathetic nervous system was suddenly flooded by natural chemicals and he reacted as many creatures do, under that kind of stress.

Severus Snape ran away.

It was not so much a run, as a very quick walk. With his blood pounding in his ears, Severus found his way down the stairs and out of the hotel. Nearly blinded by the sun he had successfully avoided for months, bedraggled, and cursedly sober, he careened through the streets of London.

He had not run away immediately- as a very confused Hermione would note in his absence. In fact, he might have stayed and endured her sudden display of affection, if it were not for one small factor.

Well, not particularly small.

It had been a very long time since any woman hugged Severus Snape. Even Minerva had demurred to a hearty handshake upon his acquittal. The closeness of a woman, any woman, willing to touch him had produced an unexpected reaction from his body.

Severus had begun to think he was completely above embarrassment until that moment. That long, mortifying moment, when Miss Granger gasped.

He had immediately put as much distance between them as his tiny room would allow. It was not enough. Not bothering to gage the disgust on her face, he stormed out, as though this were somehow her fault.

Severus reached a pub and cursed himself for not having brought any money. What he needed now was a drink. And then another. And then another.

He hadn't realized it until now, but since Miss Granger had wormed her irritating and persistent way into his life, he had been drinking less and less. Another thing for which he could assign her blame. Severus was never happy with his firewhiskey and his solitude, but at least he was comfortable.

When Miss Granger first came to his door, he had given her good reason never to return. Yet her visits continued. He could not explain it, nor did he wish to. Eventually, he simply accepted the role of host. There were certainly worse ways to spend an afternoon than taunting a former student/pain-in-the-arse into dealing with her grief. Without giving it any real thought, he began to buy more tea and biscuits and less firewhiskey.

This afternoon's interaction was forcing him to introspection, a task he hated even more when sober.

Had he invited Miss Granger in with an ulterior motive? To be sure, he had acknowledged her gender. He had even admitted, to himself, that when she remembered to eat and sleep regularly, there was something attractive about her. Not that he was one to judge the looks of others, he noted, as he caught his reflection in a store window.

Her questions aroused mainly annoyance. True, it had been a heady feeling to know that, though she despised him, she continually asked for his advice. At times, she had even made an astute observation or two. It changed his opinion of her very little, however. Her presence in his room merely helped him to lose track of the time.

Here he paused and leaned against a building, wishing he had had the common sense to start smoking like so many others with self-destructive tendencies.

Why was it so easy to lose track of time with Miss Granger around? When he was a teacher, he would count the seconds until a student left his office. Somehow, their syncopated exchange of earnest inquires, caustic replies, and silence often spanned over hours before either he or Miss Granger noticed. He dismissed that train of thought quickly. He had far fewer activities to occupy his days now and Miss Granger had simply learned not to jabber on quite as much.

The sun was beginning to set as he picked his way through side streets back to his hotel room. With something strongly akin to disappointment, Severus came to the realization that he had finally found the way to send Miss Granger away for good.

An accomplishment to be certain.

He should have bought more firewhiskey.


	6. Chapter 6

They stood facing one another, staring dumbly. Neither had expected to see the other again in this lifetime. Life takes funny turns.

"Miss Granger. I feel you should know..." He began awkwardly. "It is important that you understand...I haven't been... It's been a very long time since... It was in no way..."

Hermione watched with no small amount of amusement as a surprisingly cowed Severus Snape struggled for words, his normally sallow cheeks tinged with pink.

"Oh, Bollocks! You must be adult enough to understand a man's reaction to the presence of a relatively attractive female. I will not suffer through some tedious explanation of basic human sexuality for your edification."

"Relatively attractive?" Hermione rolled the words around in her mouth. "As back handed compliments go, it's not the worst I've received. Thank you sir."

"Do not take my words for more than they are, Miss Granger. Any female presence after so long could have produced a similar... reaction." He spat out the last word, hiding his embarrassment poorly.

"Are you saying that an embrace from MccGonagall? Or Trelawney?" She bit back a smile. "What about Moaning Myrtle? Ooh or Umbridge??" She pictured each of these, one funnier than the next and could not suppress her laughter. Snape glowered darkly as she succumbed to a fit of giggles.

"That is enough, Miss Granger!"

His sharp tones only produced another whoop of mirth. With an exasperated sigh, Snape, swaying a bit, gestured for her to enter and began to prepare tea.

Swiping a tear from one eye, Hermione took her customary seat, pushing aside a few empty bottles. "I think I needed that, Sir. You should try it sometime."

"Try it sometime?" He echoed. "Miss Granger, I often find humor in the misfortunes of others."

If she didn't know better, she would have accused him of teasing. "I meant laughing. It's almost as good a release as crying..."

He shot her a look.

"And I'm sure you don't do that either." She amended quickly.

His pride temporarily mollified, Snape began to glance about, searchingly.

"You're out of biscuits, but luckily for you, I brought some." Hermione offered the tin with a flourish.

There was a prolonged pause as he served their standard afternoon repast. The fact that it was nearly 3 in the morning had no effect whatsoever on the designated meal.

In the interim, Hermione found herself studying her companion. She fought to disguise her glances as merely casual observation, but in Snape's advanced state of inebriation, he may not have noticed had she been openly gawking.

Despite Hermione's current attitude, the occurrence of a few weeks ago had drastically changed her perspective of Severus Snape. At the time, she had decided it was best never to darken his doorway again. In fact, she had almost succeeded in breaking all ties. Somehow, however, he had managed to stay at the back of her mind. Lying in bed, when she was unable to sleep, she found herself replaying conversations and grimacing at all of the foolish things she had ever said to him.

She simply could not let their association end on that note.

And so, it was the need for the 'last word' that finally sent her stubbornly apparating to his door. She did not even consider the hour. He answered promptly enough to indicate that he held as much regard for sleep as she did.

Now they sat facing one another in a strange mockery of domesticity. A stray thought of Snape in an apron almost lost her to more laughter, but somehow, the levity of the situation seemed to have disappeared. There were a million questions running through her mind and she was terrified of any possible response she might receive.

On the one hand, if he had been reacting to her presence as a female- a 'relatively attractive' one, she reminded herself- and nothing else, they could simply continue as they had ever been. And that was exactly what she wanted, wasn't it? The realization that they were friends had been shocking enough. And yet, on the other hand...

And yet...

A sigh escaped her then and Snape shifted in his seat, suddenly taking great pains not to meet her eyes. Hermione had a feeling she had upset him, but could not fathom exactly how.

She had to break the tension. "I was just thinking that it's such a shame it's gotten so cold so early this year."

When he did finally look at her again, he merely raised both eyebrows.

"Well, I... what?"

"Small talk is the bane of social interaction, Miss Granger."

"I didn't want you to think..."

"Good, I don't want to think. It is rather tiring, isn't it? If you discover the antidote, please, let me know."

Mildly irritated, but relieved by his return to sarcasm, Hermione continued, "I just didn't want you to think that I'm sorry I came back. That's all."

"Even I am not so self-centered as to believe that your every thought revolves around me."

Hermione exhaled noisily. "I realize that. You just looked so... awkward." She regretted the word choice immediately. "That's not what I meant..."

"Perhaps it is. If you are implying that the events of a few weeks ago have left us in a rather precarious position, I will freely agree."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

He snorted lightly "If uncomfortable situations had any effect on me, I'd be long dead, my dear."

Everything about him was casual, almost relaxed. It was only the unfamiliar endearment that struck her. It hinted at a whole new possibility. Severus Snape was sparing with kind words, even more so with affectionate ones. With that small utterance, Hermione suddenly realized she might just be walking a razor's edge. Part of her started screaming to leave now, but something else kept her there, whispering that all she had to do was close her eyes and jump.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

'Awkward' did not begin to describe the current atmosphere of Severus's little flat. 'Awkward' was like saying that Voldemort had a trifling penchant for power or that Crucio might sting a little.

Not that Severus, sloshed as he was, would ever admit this to Hermione.

Miss Granger.

Hermione.

Dammit.

It might never have occurred to him if she hadn't sighed. That interruption of the silence had suddenly made him entirely too aware of the fact that he had been staring at her legs.

There was nothing particularly special about her legs. They were medium length, bony knees dipped into a curve of calf muscle that rounded itself into a narrow ankle. Her shoes were most ordinary. She wore no stockings.

But he had never seen them before. He had seen her in all manner of robes, a long dress or two, several Muggle outfits... And the realization that he could recall these details only disturbed him further.

There must have been sometime when she was a student... but he certainly would not have been looking then. He should not have been looking now.

When she sighed at him, he took it as a sign that he had been caught.

It seemed he was wrong. It was a very rare day indeed that Severus Snape enjoyed being wrong.

"You just looked so... awkward." She said, and then blushed deeply.

It was rather charming.

Severus cursed inwardly.

"That's not what I meant..." She began.

"Perhaps it is. If you are implying that the events of a few weeks ago have left us in a rather precarious position, I will freely agree."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"If uncomfortable situations had any effect on me, I'd be long dead, my dear."

That, at least, was true. He could wade through this and emerge victorious. Even if he had to fight his most primal urges every step of the way.

Why on earth was she staring at him like that?

Oh.

Merlin's arse, had he said that out loud?

Apparently he was not as sharp tonight as he had hoped. As she seemed to lose herself in thought, he gave serious consideration to the idea of simply glaring at her until she left in tears. Somehow, it did not seem the most prudent course of action.

"Did you want the last biscuit?"

The words were innocuous, but something in her eyes told him that Miss Granger had come to a decision.

He shrugged a response.

"Fine then. I suppose we could save it for later."

Later.

Later meant she would likely be back. Later meant she intended to go off and analyze every aspect of the night's encounter. Later meant she would come to Merlin-knows-what conclusion before she returned- if she returned- to share it with him.

Later was simply no good.

"Fine."

Hermione worried her bottom lip for another minute before nodding swiftly and rising from her seat. "Thank you for an... interesting time, as always."

She was going to leave and he wasn't going to stop her. He was simply going to drink himself into oblivion and wait for a knock on the door to drag him back out. That was much easier than trying to explain how badly he wanted her to stay.

He cursed himself again. If he spoke up, he would have to say something convincing. She would want to hear all those lovely flowery things that he had never even been able to think without repugnance. She would want to hear how empty his flat felt when he thought she would never return. She would want to know that, much to his dismay, he could not help but think of her in her absence. She might even like to know that he could picture every curl on her head when he closed his eyes.

It was disgusting.

Besides, Severus Snape had spent enough time groveling in his life.

Not that Miss Granger had much in common with either of his masters. In fact, he felt servitude to her might be more than bearable.

If she would just ask.

A/N: not finished just yet…


End file.
